Cold
by mudkiprox
Summary: It was cold. As Ivan walked out of the cabin, the last spark of hope and light in him died. And it wasnt coming back. oneshot  Warning: character death


**O.o I have another story? In a few days? What is going on? I was again hit by sudden inspiration to write this and once I started I couldnt stop! **

**Warning: Death. Yeah, thats about it.**

He sat staring. He seemed apathetic, but anyone who had ever spoken to him could see the faint traces of regret and sorrow on his features.

He almost looked as though he would cry. It was cold, he noted. And he felt colder than he had in a long time.

Since he had been with _him_ it had seemed warmer. But now that he was gone, Ivan could feel winters chill setting back into him.

At first he had tried to hold on to the last vestiges of warmth and happiness that he could, but he soon realized he was fighting for something that was gone. And it wasn't coming back. _He_ wasn't coming back. His little one had found him and saved him when he had known no one else was coming.

No one cared what happened to him. He was a monster, weren't they better off without him? And yet, going against everyone whose respect he had fought so hard to gain, his angel had come to save his soul.

Ivan had been lying face down in the snow and he knew that the blood from his many attempts at shooting his head was pooling around him. He had smiled his sweet smile and held out his hand, not caring that this was someone who was feared and hated by all. Ivan had started at him for a moment, wondering if he was crazy, but took his hand and found himself pulled into a hug. He couldn't help but tense up. He had never been hugged without a knife being shoved into his back.

But this was nothing but warmth. Though this boy held winter the same as him, he was warm. After a moment, Ivan tentatively wrapped his arms around the slender body and cried.

Things had gotten better. For the first time in longer than he could count, Ivan had hope.

And now, now that hope, that spark of light in his world was gone.

Lying cold on the bed in front of him, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

As he looked around the room he could almost see his angel standing laughing as he made breakfast in the cabin joking about how Ivan was not a morning person.

The image almost brought a smile to Ivan's face, but the sight of his beloved's body was enough to prevent it. The world was darker, he mused.

A storm was setting in, as if the elements were crying for the fallen nation. He wondered if anywhere else in the world was having similar weather.

If anyone else even cared that he was gone. The door blew open and it was as though the warmth was racing to get away. Even the fire in the grate, once warm and merry, seemed to become cold and dark. Ivan looked next to the bed. There was the sunflower that he had been given the day that they had first confessed their feelings. It was magic, like the nations themselves. It represented their relationship. It was never supposed to die. _He _was never supposed to die.

He had lied, what happened to forever?

The flower was sitting wilted. As dead as the boy who had given it to him. And no amount of water would bring it back. He knew that the boy had left his land to him, trusting that he could take care of his citizens properly. But he was dead after he had promised that he would never leave. The day of the promise had been beautiful. It was summer; they had been lying outside in a never ending sea of green.

"You know Ivan" his angel had said.

"No matter how many times you have been hurt in the past, I will never hurt you. Never leave you. You can always count on me." Ivan had no words to express how he felt hearing those words. They had meant so much once, but now, now they were weapons that his soul was using to cut him into pieces.

It hurt so much. He felt as though he was being ripped apart from the inside. It was worse than the fall of the USSR; he could not even conquer anyone to get his angel back. He was doomed to be empty.

There was no point sitting here anymore. Looking at the empty shell of his love would do nothing to bring him back.

As Ivan walked out the door of that cabin, the last spark of hope and light in his soul died.

With the death of Matthew came the end of any happiness Ivan would ever know. No humanity remained in his heart.

There was only Russia now. No more Canada, no more Matthew, no more Ivan. He felt the pain fading away as it was replaced with a cold apathy that had once terrified him. Now he welcomed it, anything was better than the pain. He breathed in the fresh air outside.

It was cold.

**Hope you liked! Tell me!*read: reveiw***


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